


Science Bitches and Foiled Schemes

by springstorms



Series: charbitch <3 [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Charbitch, Charlie is soft, Coffee Shops, Dialogue Heavy, Illiteracy, M/M, Pre-Slash, Therapy, also some fake therapy, but also he fucking hates the gang, love language: acts of service, mentions of killing rats, references to charlie's past abuse, science bitch is called "doc" in this and works at UPenn, talking shit about freud, the scientist is super nice and helpful because i want him to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springstorms/pseuds/springstorms
Summary: Despite the gang's best efforts, Charlie finally watches Ratatouille and has an epiphany (and/or breakdown) and decides he wants to try therapy.This is a lot of dialogue so if that's not your jam be warned!
Relationships: Charlie Kelly/Scientist (It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia)
Series: charbitch <3 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005804
Comments: 15
Kudos: 46





	Science Bitches and Foiled Schemes

**Author's Note:**

> Charbitch is the softest ship ever because I said so!!!

"What up, bitches?!" Mac strode into the bar, grabbing a beer mid-stride and only slowing his pace when he saw three matching morbid looks staring back at him. 

"Where were you all day?" Dennis asked, disapproving.

"I was getting my pump on, dude, can't you tell? What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong." Dee said. "Charlie watched _Ratatouille._ " 

Oh, shit." 

"Oh shit is right, my friend." Dennis said, shaking his head in disappointment. "...and all because Frank wanted to distract him long enough to go bang Artemis and taught him how to use Amazon Prime."

"I didn't know he'd pick that one! He had one of the _Bill & Ted's _ pulled up before I left!" 

"That's no excuse. You should have known he'd gravitate towards the animated movies and you should have known he'd think the poster was intriguing. Don't you remember how fixated he was on _Up_?" Dennis said, looking at Mac for reinforcement.

"Dennis is right, dude. I'm pretty sure the rat is literally holding cheese on the cover, you should have known that'd grab him." He clucked his tongue, shaking his head. "Is that why he's not here right now?"

Dee nodded. "He's refusing to work, saying we should try to train them to help in the bar instead. He thinks he's Cinderella or something." 

Nobody laughed at her joke. 

"We need to figure out how to get him back before he goes full Cinderella and starts singing to them and putting them in tiny outfits." Dennis said, smirking at Frank and Mac's guffaws. Dee scowled. 

"Well, did you consider getting him a new rat stick?" Mac asked.

"I reinforced his old one with more chains and spikes and even added a little label with his name on it." Dee said. "He barely touched it and we found it in a taped up box in the basement." 

" _Shit,_ it's really bad this time, huh?"

"Mhm. Tell him the worst part, Frank."

"He's talking about therapy, saying he wants to give it a try." 

"Ohhh, that kid would take years to psychoanalyze. Every day would be a new can of worms." Mac said with a grimace.

"He'd probably be too sad to work. It's like ever since the Christmas where he gnawed on that mall Santa he gets super depressed in December and doesn't want to work or do anything." Dee said. 

"Well what are we gonna do?" Mac asked. 

"That's what we're deciding." Dennis said. "Frank's immediate idea was to pay a guy to pretend to be a therapist for Charlie who could either tell him he's fine or convince him that working is the way to fix it, whatever. But he already said he doesn't wanna talk to anyone Frank picks. He wants someone with, like, super real credentials and shit." 

"But how would he know the difference between real and fake ones?" 

"He says it has to be someone with a fancy office who has professional pictures come up when he google searches them." 

"That's harder to fake. Is there a real therapist we could, like, pay off?" Mac said.

"They already make bank profiting off of people's trauma." Dee pointed out. "They'd be hard as shit to bribe."

"You know who isn't hard to bribe, though? College kids. Find one of them, maybe a college girl who's strapped for cash and has access to her professor's office? Has an instant-gram page with enough followers that it comes up when you google her name? Boom." Frank said.

"It's _Instagram,_ but you might be onto something here, Frank." Dennis said, begrudgingly impressed. "College girls will do _anything_ when they need cash. This would probably be better than any of her other options." He smirked.

"Gross." Dee and Mac said in unison, Mac immediately glaring at her and scooting closer to Dennis. 

"It just might work, though." Dee said, tapping her chin conspiratorially. "I think Mac and I should try to find the girl, though, because you both'll undoubtedly hit on her and freak her out."

"She'd only be freaked out if she wasn't into it, which, for the record, she would be." Dennis said. "--But I see your point. My inevitable conquest can go on the back burner until we deal with Charlie." 

*--*--*

Charlie had spent the last few days in bed rewatching _Ratatouille_ and eating his weight out of a bag of shredded mozzarella. Frank's attempts to talk to him had all been coercive and easy to tell were bullshit, so he'd taken to sleeping in the crevice and ignoring him. He just didn't wanna feel like this anymore, he wanted to talk to someone who he could be sure wasn't going to try to manipulate him or exploit him. Plus Christmas was coming up and that was only making things worse. That's why he needed a professional, someone fancy who had seen it all and wouldn't judge him too much. He'd figure out how to pay for it later, because there was no way that Frank was gonna be willing.

He sighed when his phone started buzzing from under his pillow, Frank's name popping up. Maybe if he started talking to him again he could convince him to pay for just one meeting… He reluctantly picked up, burrowing deeper into his blanket cocoon for comfort. "Yeah?"

"Charlie, get down to the bar. I'm gonna pay for you to see a shrink, but only one session for now, okay?" 

Charlie pulled the blanket from over his head, disbelieving. "Wait, _really?"_

"I wanna help you go back to being your old self again." 

Charlie wasn't sure that was what he wanted but wasn't going to complain as long as Frank was footing the bill. "And I get to pick who it is?"

"Just get down here, we'll explain."

Charlie was at the bar twenty minutes later, shivering in his green jacket from walking the whole way. 

"Charlie, get over here!" Frank said, actually sounding kind of excited. The gang were all hunched over a laptop. 

"I dunno, dude, I said I wanted to pick…" Charlie said, rubbing his hands together and peering over their shoulders to see a webpage pulled up with a young-looking blonde woman, a label underneath her picture that said Dr. Christina something. He squinted at her last name "Su….suther….?" 

"Sutherland." Dee filled in. "And we know how hard it can be for you to figure out Google, so we thought we'd look for you." She said, voice saccharine.

"Lemme...lemme look." Charlie said, immediately suspicious of her patronizing.

The webpage looked surprisingly legit, with a banner at the top with an official looking logo. A lot of the words were hard, but he could pick up on a few like therapy, PTSD, and UPenn. 

"UPenn?" He asked, reaching out to scroll down the page. Dennis grabbed his hand before he could, giving it a weird half-shake.

"Yeah, man, she's also a professor there!"

He squinted at the picture. "She looks a little young to be a college professor…"

"Well….white don't crack." Mac said.

Dennis gave him a scathing look. "Nobody says that, man. It sounds super Aryan Brotherhood."

"My dad's in that!" Mac said.

"Ooh, not something you wanna brag about, Mac." Dee said with a cringe. 

"Fine, fine, whatever. She just looks young, dude. She's super qualified, though." Mac said. 

"Yeah, not everybody ages like this one over here." Dennis said, pointing at Dee and earning a chorus of laughs.

"Hey, Dennis, how much debt did Botox put you into again?" Dee asked. 

Dennis scowled and was about to answer when Charlie banged a hand on the bar to get their attention. "Okay, I just googled her name and a lot of pictures came up. Is her office at the University?" 

"Uh-huh! She can meet tomorrow if you want!" Frank said, quickly shutting the laptop and tucking it under the bar.

"Oh shit, you already talked to her?" 

"Yeah, she said she's had tons of different clients who have been, um, exterminators, so she'd love to talk to you about rats." Dee said. 

"Does she know how to train them, do you think?" Charlie asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

"Maybe you could ask her that once you meet her, buddy." Dennis said encouragingly. 

"Well...alright." Charlie said. "But I'm picking someone else if she isn't good at it." 

"Of course, man. We just want that classic Charlie smile back on your face again." Mac said, ruffling his hair. 

"Tone it down." Dennis whispered, elbowing him. 

Professor Christina Sutherland. Charlie figured it was worth a try. 

  
  


*--*--*

  
  


The next day they found themselves on the UPenn campus, Dennis already having difficulty focusing. "I mean, look at that one…" He said, nudging Mac and flicking his head towards a girl sipping coffee and reading a textbook. "She keeps giving me the eyes." 

"There is no way that girl isn't a freshman." Dee pointed out. 

"Oh, come on, that's an anatomy textbook. She's _at least_ a sophomore." 

"Oh, I stand corrected. Nothing wrong with it if she's a whole year older!" Dee said, earning a glare from Dennis. 

"Alright, guys, we ready to go?" Charlie said, coming out of the Starbucks bathroom with Frank in tow. He felt remarkably more light-hearted at the prospect of actually talking to someone who wouldn't try to convince him of anything or try to trick him into doing more work, and having the gang's support was cheering him up even more.

They went into a big white modern-looking building with a fancy glass design. Charlie gazed around at all of the busy students and people in lab coats milling around, all looking very important. He let Dennis lead the way to the third floor down a series of hallways until they ended up in a classroom with a bunch of computers and chalkboards. 

"She's just in there, buddy." Dennis said, pointing to an office at the end of the room with the lights on and brown paneling, the door propped open. "Want us to go in there with you?" Frank asked, sounding hopeful. 

"Uh, that's okay, you guys. I got it." He started towards the office and a blonde woman stepped swiftly out of the doorway, standing in front of the nameplate on the door before he could see it. 

"Charlie, that must be you! It's nice to meet you." She said, holding out her hand for a handshake. He surveyed her before taking her hand: she was wearing a suit jacket and had her hair in a bun and seemed pretty legit. He gave her hand a polite shake then saluted at the gang, following her into her office. 

"So, Mr. Kelly." She said, sitting at a big desk covered in papers and books and crossing her legs. There was a coffee mug with a little picture of a cat in a box under a WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE sign. Charlie didn't get it but he liked the cat.

"Would you like to explain your situation to me? Your friends mentioned something about... _Ratatouille_." 

"Well, yeah, that's where it started." He said, pulling off the beanie he'd been wearing outside in the cold and folding it in his lap. "Basically, like, I watched that and it made me feel really bad about how many rats I've killed in my life. Especially 'cause I know first-hand how smart they can actually be. Like...I try to be humane about it, and stuff, but they're fast and so sometimes I have to chase them down to keep bashing 'em and…" he trailed off, frowning. "It just gets gory. I wanna, like, train 'em or something. Maybe not to cook, but they could clean, or something, right?"

Dr. Sutherland nodded very seriously, scribbling away on a tiny notepad. 

Charlie heaved a sigh. "Plus I just...I hate that it feels like my friends think that I'm so dumb that they have to trick me into doing the work. Like, I'm gonna do it either way, I should be allowed to take breaks and stuff, though, they totally use me!"

She tapped the pen on her chin. "Well, weren't they the ones who organized this session?"

"Well...yeah…"

"So it sounds like they _do_ care. They _do_ want you to feel good about working." 

Charlie furrowed his eyebrows. “I mean, I know they care, but they just want me to go back to normal.”

“Well, wouldn't you say you were happier before?”

“Happier compared to _now,_ yeah, but I can’t just shut off my feelings.” Charlie was getting frustrated, now, twisting the beanie around in his hands.

“I understand that, Charlie.” Dr. Sutherland said, trying to sound placating. “--I just mean that maybe you can work together with them on this, come to some kind of compromise.”

“Like what?” 

“Well, maybe you could---” she was cut off by the sound of yelling outside the door and something that sounded like a stool being thrown. Charlie thought he could hear a clipped British accent over the commotion and frowned, watching her eyes dart to the door and widen. She didn’t have to say _oh, shit_ out loud for Charlie to tell she was thinking it. 

He frowned, getting to his feet. “Uh, should we check that out…?” 

She didn’t respond, looking around the room like she was trying to manifest a closet to hide in. 

“Oookay…” Charlie said, walking over to the door and pulling it open only to come face to face with a strangely familiar glowering man with neatly combed hair in a large winter parka. He seemed slightly surprised to see Charlie but strode right past him, standing with crossed arms and pinning a glare onto the blonde woman that Charlie was very glad was not directed towards himself. 

“Miss Williams, what is the meaning of this?”

“I thought your name was Dr. Sutherland!” Charlie squawked. “This isn’t even your office, is it?!”

“I assure you it is not her office.” The man said, voice dripping in disdain. “--This is a student of mine.” 

“I’m sorry, Dr---” she was cut off by the gang all crowding into the small office, talking loudly.

"What the hell, bitch? You said he wasn't gonna be here today!" Dee said aggressively.

"I didn't think he _was_!" the girl defended, staying behind the desk like she was afraid Dee would jump on her if she didn't. 

"Yes, well I thought I'd get some extra work done." He said, voice as hard and crisp as ice. 

"I knew picking a girl was gonna mess everything up." Mac said with a glare.

"Hey hey hey, let's all calm down." Dennis said, giving Dee and Mac a reproachful look and holding his hands up. "Let's all just talk this out." 

"Yes, let's start with you lot explaining yourselves, hmm?" The scientist said. 

"Yeah, maybe you guys should explain!" Charlie said, voice shrill.

Frank and Mac looked guiltily at the ground but Dennis held his ground, straightening his spine. "Of course, of course. What we have here is a classic misunderstanding. You see, we were under the impression that this young woman over here was a practicing therapist, but we seem to have been misled…" 

"Oh no you don't!" She said, finally pushing up from the desk. "The old one paid me $1000 to do this! I was just supposed to tell that one" --she pointed at Charlie-- "that working in his bar would make him feel better!" 

"God damnit." Dee said. 

Charlie looked at them all, betrayed. "I can't _believe_ you guys! I thought you might do something like this but I was like no, maybe they actually give a shit for once!" 

"We do give a shit, Charlie! We wanted to help you get back to normal! We didn't know science bitch was gonna show up!" Frank said, sounding genuinely upset. 

Oh, _that's_ where Charlie knew him from. He was too upset to mention it, though, waving his hands around as he yelled. "You wanted me to go back to doing your dirty work is what you wanted!"

The scientist's eyebrows were raised to the sky and the sharp line of his jaw was clenched. "Alright. Let's all take a moment." He turned to his student. "Miss Williams, I will deal with you later. You may leave." He shot a wary glance at Dee, who was still edging towards her like she was waiting for the moment to pounce. 

"Before I go, can I just say that I am _drowning_ in student loans?" The student said, giving Dee a wide berth on her way to the door.

The scientist sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We can talk about it later, okay?" 

She nodded meekly before making her exit, speed-walking through the open office door and through the lab in four seconds flat. 

"Alright. _Why_ did you go to such elaborate lengths to trick Mr. Kelly? To get him to keep working?" 

"He watched _Ratatouille_ and got all squeamish about killing the rats and was too depressed to even show up to work. He was even, like, giving Frank the silent treatment." Mac explained. 

The scientist let out a long sigh, shoulders dropping in weariness beneath his parka. "Okay, well, as I see it, Charlie is allowed to be upset about something like that." 

"Hah!" Charlie said, moving to stand next to the scientist. 

"---But I'm sure you guys could work out a compromise. Perhaps a more humane way of capturing rats? There are plenty of traps on the market that won't kill them." 

"We've tried traps like that before but they're crafty little bastards." Frank said. 

"They _are_ more clever than we thought." Dennis admitted. "Plus a lot of 'em are in the walls, 'n shit, so they usually die even in humane traps." 

"See? The reality isn't so pretty, is it? That's why what I'm _saying_ is we need to, like, teach 'em to pull our hair and do chores and stuff!" Charlie said, looking at the scientist for validation. 

"....I." He said, opening his mouth then shutting it again.

"I'm gonna let that statement marinate for a second." Dennis said, adding after a beat "--Can you see why we felt like taking him to a real therapist would just open up way too many cans of worms?"

"I'm not going to comment. It was still unethical to lead him here under false pretenses to try to trick him into doing your work."

"As opposed to you tricking him with fake pills a few years ago? I seem to remember quite a bit of _unethical_ deception to serve your own ends." 

The scientist had two high spots of color on his cheeks. "...Yes, well, I do regret my conduct during that study, but he was paid for his time and informed of the truth at the end of the 72 hours." 

"Can you guys stop talking about me like I'm not in the room?" Charlie said, frustrated. 

"I apologize for misleading you over the course of that experiment, Charlie." The scientist said, turning to him. "If you'd like my two cents, I can help you find a suitable therapist, one who's _real."_

 _"_ Really?" Charlie asked, eyes wide.

"Why don't you just do it, if you're so smart?" Dee interrupted.

"I'm not trained as a therapist, for one. I'm a professor and a scientist." 

"Yeah but you still seem to know your shit. Why don't you just talk to him for, like, fifteen minutes?" Mac said. 

"Should I threaten him?" Frank whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, digging in his jacket for his gun.

"Please don't." Dennis said. 

The scientist seemed to be considering it, eyeing Frank and trying to gauge if he actually had a gun. He finally sighed, taking his parka off to reveal a dark knit sweater over a collared shirt. "Alright, fine, will speaking with him for a little bit get the rest of you to leave?" 

"Yup." Dee said, popping the 'p'. 

He threw his hands up, rounding his desk and sitting down. "Take a seat, Charlie." 

Charlie sat obediently and waited for the rest of the gang to begrudgingly file out, bickering amongst themselves about science bitches and foiled schemes.

He draped his jacket over the back of his seat and peered down at the notepad that his student had left behind, muttering "Ratatouille" to himself. He clasped his hands. "So, Charlie. Were there any other factors that motivated you to want to look for a therapist? Other than the rats, I mean." 

"Well before I knew Dr. Sutherland wasn't Dr. Sutherland I was telling her about how my friends always try to trick me into working like I'm too dumb to realize, and that was _before_ I knew they'd set this whole thing up too! Maybe I _am_ too dumb to realize." He said, fiddling with the beanie still in his hands like he had been before. 

"I'm sorry you feel like they take advantage of you. You shouldn't have to be fooled into doing things you don't want to do." The scientist said, wrinkling his nose. 

"Well that's the thing, dude, I'm not even usually super opposed to working, but god forbid I take a few days off because I want to go a day without having to wash _blood_ off of my hands!" He was visibly upset, pulling so hard at a thread from his beanie that it was threatening to unravel the entire thing. 

"Charlie, it's alright. That's perfectly reasonable." 

"It doesn't matter if it's reasonable, it’s Charlie Work so they'll make me do it either way." he mumbled, eyes down. 

“They call it ‘Charlie Work’?”

“Yeah, man. Anything gross or weird or labor-intensive basically has my name on it.”

“If you could do something else at the bar, would you?”

Charlie thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Well, no, I mean, it’s what I’m good at. A lot of the time I even enjoy it. I’m not, like, squeamish or anything, plus I like chemicals.”

“So it’s just the exterminating part you take issue with?”

He nodded. “And I don’t like being told what to do like I’m lower than them! They would be nowhere without me, man, but they all think they’re hot shit and treat me like a, a _kid_ or something!”

“I do sense some rather large egos in that group, if you don’t mind me saying.” 

“Exactly.” he huffed. “Also, shouldn’t you be writing this down? Like in movies?”

“Real life therapy isn’t much like movies, I’m not going to take out a pocket watch and start swinging it back and forth or anything.” Charlie smiled slightly at that. “But I could stand to take some notes.” The scientist picked up the little notepad and grabbed a pen from the mug with the cat, scribbling something down. 

“I like your mug. Why does it say ‘Wanted: Dead or Alive’ on it?” Charlie said. 

The scientist smiled, his mouth wide and his eyes crinkling. Charlie found it comforting. “Thank you. It’s a reference to Schrödinger's Cat, a thought experiment devised by an Austrian physicist in the 1930s. In simple terms, you’re meant to picture a cat kept inside a black box. There’s a radioactive sample besides the cat which can start emitting radiation at any time, and if it does it would trigger a hammer which would break a vial that would release poison and kill the cat.”

Charlie was confused but nodded along anyway. 

“As long as the box is closed, you can’t tell if the cat is alive or not, so it’s sort of...both, at the same time.”

“I’m pretty sure it would start yowling once it got hungry, Doc.” Charlie said confidently. “Which for cats is, like, twenty minutes.”

Doc smiled again. “That's true, which is why it’s just something to think about, not to actually do. It’s supposed to be confusing.”

“That’s a relief, because it’s definitely confusing.” Charlie said, already feeling much better than he had ten minutes ago. He wanted to keep talking to him. “Why do you have a mug about that if you study brains?”

“I find physics interesting, though I admit I really only know the surface level material."

“That’s still pretty impressive, man. I don’t know anything about any of that stuff.”

“Well I’m sure there’s plenty of stuff _you_ know about that I don’t.” he said, sounding pleased. 

Charlie wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure about that. Maybe bird law.”

“I definitely don’t know anything about that, so there you go.” 

“That’s okay, it’s not governed by reason so it’s kinda hard to grasp.” He wondered why Doc kept smiling at him even when he didn’t say anything that funny but decided he didn't mind because it didn't seem like he was mocking him or anything. "So you have that mug because you like physics, not cats?" 

Doc rubbed his jaw like he was deep in thought. "I do like cats, as well, I've even thought about getting one, but I'm rather busy and always put it off."

"Dude, I love cats, I have like fifty outside of my apartment. I could totally just grab you one if you want." 

Doc laughed, a soft exhalation of air. "You don't need to do that. But I appreciate the thought."

"No problem, man, it's way too many for me to feed myself."

"So you feed them? That's pretty generous."

"It's the only thing that shuts them up, to be fair, plus they go crazy when they smell the cat food. That's how I know Sho...Shodinger? That's how I know his cat would be super loud."

"Schrödinger. And that makes sense. Is it difficult buying cat food but only being able to feed some of them?"

"Well the cat food is actually for me and Frank, so that makes it even harder. I try to distribute it evenly, though." 

Doc's pen stilled and he looked up, eyebrows drawn together. "For you?"

"Well, yeah…" Charlie said, fidgeting a little. "It's insanely hard to sleep there, dude, you have no idea. The yowling isn't even the worst of it. So, like, cat food makes me really tired and it helps." 

He didn't mention the glue, figuring that might only make things worse. 

"Charlie...it probably makes you tired because it's making you sick." 

"I know…." Charlie said, back to pulling at the thread.

"Have you tried melatonin gummies, sleeping pills...?" 

"I can handle my sedatives, dude. That's why I had to start with the cat food to begin with." 

Doc frowned, writing something down.

They were interrupted by Dee poking her head into the room. “Hey, boners, you almost done in here, or what?”

“You were the one who wanted me to talk to him, so that’s what I’m doing.” Doc said coldly.

“Yeah, Dee, after all the shit you guys have done today I can’t believe you’re _still_ trying to boss me around.”

She put her hands up. “Jesus, okay, sorry to interrupt, Freud.” The door closed with a _click._

“Who’s Freud?” Charlie asked, seizing the opportunity to change the subject. 

Doc turned back to him. “He’s a famous psychoanalyst from the nineteenth century. I’m not the biggest fan of him, to be honest.” 

“Why not?”

“I just think it’s a shame that out of all of the well-known figures in psychology’s history, he’s the one everyone seems to know. Some of his misogyny can be excused because of the time period, yes, but a good deal of it was rather...excessive, and some of it is so pervasive that it still affects how patients are treated today.”

“Oh, man. How does it do that?”

“Well, women are still more likely to be seen as overly emotional instead of actually struggling, for one thing, and they're also not taken as seriously working in the psychology field---he believed they shouldn't work in the field at all. He also heaped a large portion of blame onto mothers, oversexualizing family dynamics.”

“Yikes.” Charlie said. “Sounds like he’s the one who needed therapy.”

Doc huffed a laugh. “Most definitely. I mean obviously when those things happen they play a large role in stunting one’s development, but he tended to project those dynamics onto patients even if they weren’t overtly there.”

“When what things happen?” Charlie asked, suddenly very still. 

“Oh, um, childhood molestation, that sort of thing.” Doc said, face unreadable. 

“Oh.” Charlie said, trying to sound casual. “Is that stuff, like, super permanent?”

“Well, there are often long-term effects stemming from that kind of experience, but many people are able to work through that trauma and live full, happy lives.” Doc said carefully. “Charlie, is there anything you want to---”

“Nope!” Charlie said quickly, cutting him off. “I was just thinking about Dennis, because he slept with the school librarian when he was, like, fifteen, and we all think it kinda messed him up.”

Doc’s mouth was a thin line. “I’m sorry to hear that that happened to him. I’m sure talking to someone about it would be very beneficial for him.”

Charlie forced a laugh. “Well, uh, we got WAY off topic there.”

Doc looked up from his notepad. “Yes, I’m afraid I’ve been talking much more than you have. I apologize.” He seemed sheepish. 

“Hell no, dude, you have all kinds of interesting stuff to say.”

He ducked his head, the tips of his ears pink. “Oh, well, thank you. But this is what I mean when I say you should get someone trained for this kind of thing. I’m afraid it isn’t really my forte.”

“You don’t think you can fix me?”

Doc was silent for a moment, sympathetic eyes pinning Charlie to his seat and making him feel awkward and itchy. “It isn’t about fixing because you aren’t broken, Charlie. But I’d rather you get the best possible treatment you can, and I assure you that I’m not it. Again, I can help you find some candidates to try, many of them offer free first sessions so you wouldn’t have to worry about that.” 

Charlie avoided eye contact. "Right now?" 

"It doesn't have to be right now if it isn't convenient for you…" Doc said, setting the little notepad down. 

"Oh, well, I actually might have to get going pretty soon because I gotta get ready for a Christmas….thing. At the bar." Was it too early for a Christmas thing? Charlie thought it might be, but he wasn't sure he wanted to see anyone else. He wanted to see Doc again. 

"Oh...alright. Well, I can always email you a list of candidates, if you'd like."

"No!" Charlie said quickly, startling him. "I mean...I'm not the best with working the computer. Could you call me, or something, instead?" 

"Sure." Doc said, ripping out a piece of paper from his notepad and reaching across his desk to hand it to Charlie. "Would you mind writing your phone number down?"

Charlie stared at it and hesitantly took it. He could do this. Numbers were easier to write, anyway, plus he'd practiced this one. He took a moment to scribble it down and triple-checked it before handing it back and getting to his feet. "Well, um, sorry my friends hijacked your office." He said, pulling his hat back on and shoving his hands into his coat pockets. 

"You don't need to apologize for them." He said immediately. "I'd rather not say good-bye to them, though, if it's all the same to you." He stood up, holding a hand out for Charlie to shake.

"That's fair, man." Charlie shook his hand, noticing how big it was, and gave a small wave.

I'll see you!" He ducked out the door and was gone, the sounds of his friends complaining about how long he'd taken floating through the open doorway. 

Doc sighed, staring down at his notes. Charlie was...a lot more complicated than he'd realized over the course of their experiment. He'd honestly thought that Tang-See had been exaggerating details that weren't pertinent to the data, like the state of Charlie's apartment and the extent of the strange dynamics within his friend group. Still...he was surprisingly charming, in a naïve sort of way. And fun to talk to. And interesting. And he definitely deserved better than the treatment he got from his friends. He'd be a handful for any therapist, to be sure, but Doc was confident he could find one who'd be able to help. All he really needed was someone patient, someone who wouldn't want to take advantage of him like his friends did. 

He sighed, staring out his window at the blustery sky. He really was a victim of poor circumstance more than anything else. 

  
  


*--*--*

  
  


It had been a few days since what had happened at UPenn and Charlie had begrudgingly started working again under the condition that they'd give fancy rat traps another try until they found something that worked and that he wouldn't have to pay for any of them. Dennis had taken the most convincing but had eventually given in, too, even showing Charlie how to find the right traps on Amazon. 

Charlie was kneeling on the floor of the basement with the ingredients for a sandwich on a plate, trying to convince one of the rats who had ventured out at the smell of food to assemble the sandwich instead of just trying to eat it. It wasn't going well and he was kind of nervous about putting the rat on his head to tug his hair because he didn't want it to panic and bite him. He was working up the courage to grab it and put it on his head when his phone started buzzing and scared it away. It was a number he didn’t recognize. “Hello?”

“Hello, Charlie, this is Dr---”

“Oh, shit, hey Doc!” Charlie interrupted, putting the phone on speaker and assembling the sandwich for himself now that the rat wasn’t around to do it. 

“How are you? Any updates on the rat situation with your friends?”

“Still can’t get them to cook or do chores, unfortunately, but the gang is letting me try a bunch of different fancy traps to see if any work!” he said, chomping on the sandwich and moving to lean against the wall. 

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been compiling a little list of options for you. If you’re free at any point today, would you---”

“I’m free! Did you wanna meet up somewhere?” Charlie asked.

“Oh, um, yes! Are there any coffee shops or anything around your bar that would work for you?”

“Oh, Doc,” Charlie grinned. “I know just the place.” 

*--*--*

Doc checked his watch for the fourth time, already seated at a little corner table in the coffee shop Charlie had picked. He found himself looking up every time the little bell jingled, anticipation growing in his gut and making him feel oddly nervous. 

Charlie bounded in ten minutes after their agreed-upon time, rubbing his hands together from the cold. He was only wearing his thin green jacket over a jumper and the tip of his nose was red when he sat down. “Sorry, dude, I didn’t know it was gonna snow so bad today, it took longer to walk.” 

“It’s quite alright, Charlie. Is that your only coat?”

“Pretty much, man, this is ol’ reliable right here.” he dusted the snow off of his shoulders and grinned.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not so bad if you layer it. I always lose scarves ‘n shit.”

“At least you can warm up in here.” Doc said, getting to his feet. "Would you like to go order?" 

"I, uh, didn't bring any money." Charlie said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"That's no problem, I can get you something." Doc said, pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his wool coat. 

"Well….if you insist…" Charlie said, already halfway to the counter. 

Doc smiled and shook his head, following him to the counter. 

"What _is_ that little scone thing? Does it really have cheese?" Charlie was peering down at the pastries, nose practically touching the glass.

"That's a Cheese Danish." Doc said, reading off the little placard in front of it. "It's made with cream cheese."

"Oh shit, could I--"

"Of course." Doc said, ordering the danish for Charlie alongside Masala Chai for himself from the scowling barista. 

"Sorry about the service here, Doc." Charlie whispered as they walked back to their table. "I would've taken you to this other really great place nearby but The Waitress works there so I'm not technically allowed in." He said it with a nonchalance that Doc wasn't sure he should find amusing or concerning. 

"That's the woman you ate with during the study, right?"

"Yes, the love of my life." Charlie said confidently, sliding into his seat and drumming his fingers on the tabletop. 

Doc wasn't sure how to respond to that so he just busied himself with pulling his laptop out, opening it to all of the tabs he already had pulled up of different candidates for Charlie to consider. "So. I have around six people here for you to look at, most of whom I know personally and can vouch for." 

"Okay…" Charlie said, scooting closer and squinting at the screen, danish already halfway gone.

"This is Dr. Lucy Carano." He said, tilting the screen so that Charlie could see it better. "She specializes in treating trauma and PTSD but has experience with all kinds of patients. She has a little introduction if you'd like to read it."

"Oh, uh, sure." Charlie said, squinting at the paragraph underneath her picture. Doc watched him stare at the page but his eyes weren't scanning left to right, just flicking all over the place. After about thirty seconds he looked back up. "Um, she sounds alright, I'm not sure…"

"What part aren't you sure about?"

"Just the----the, um…" Charlie trailed off, looking miserable. 

"Charlie, are you having trouble with the words?"

He looked guiltily at him. "Uh, yeah, I mean, I'm just not the best reader, you know, words aren't my strong suit because of Dyslexia, 'n shit." 

Doc's gut sank in sympathy. He knew Charlie wasn't the most book-smart man in the world, not after his performance on the IQ tests he'd taken, but he honestly hadn't known he struggled so much with reading. No wonder he'd performed the way he had on the tests, he probably hadn't been able to read the questions. "I'm sorry, Charlie, I wasn't aware. I can read aloud to you, if you'd like." His voice was careful, soft. 

"You don't have to, like, pity me, man. I can figure stuff out most of the time, it's just when it's written down…"

"Plenty of people struggle with that sort of thing." Doc said, earnest. "It rarely has to do with anything other than resource and circumstance." 

"Thanks, man. You can read them." Charlie said, already seeming calmer. 

Charlie polished off his danish as Doc read out the descriptions for each therapist, licking the cream cheese from his fingers like a contented cat.

If Charlie noticed Doc mentioning that each of them was adept at treating PTSD he didn't comment, instead fiddling with his paper napkin as he spoke. "The Mendel guy sounds pretty cool, I guess." he said once Doc was done. "What's animal therapy? Do animals need therapy?"

Doc shook his head, eyes crinkling. "Animal therapy is when animals are used for comfort during sessions. It's usually cats or dogs. If I'm remembering correctly his practice offers both."

"That's kinda cool, if they don't bite or anything."

"They're usually quite nice." 

"I guess I could give him a shot...if you really don't think _you_ should do it." 

"Charlie. I'm flattered that you think I could, really, but you need someone trained for it, trust me."

"Yeah, yeah." He grumbled darkly. "It's just that lots of people don't really get me, you know? Especially shrinks." 

"It's their _job_ to try and understand you, and, quite frankly, if they don't then they're bad at their jobs."

Charlie smiled. "You should've seen when we all went to Dee's therapist, man, we really put her through the ringer." 

"Well I do hope she made at least an effort to help you."

"I guess she did, I dunno. I think the pigeon thing really threw her off." he said ominously, interrupted by the waitress showing up to pointedly collect Charlie's plate. 

"I can help you schedule an appointment with Mendel right now, if you like." Doc said, pulling up his schedule.

"Alright…" Charlie said, still hesitant. 

"He has a few open slots next week, are you free Wednesday or Thursday at four?"

"I can do Thursday." Charlie said, beginning to shred his napkin.

"Alright, you're all set. If I write down his address will you be able to get there?"

"I can have Dee take me. I'm gonna be able to milk the whole trying to trick me thing for _at least_ the rest of the week." 

"Well…" Doc said, uncertain what to say now that they'd technically covered the reason for their meeting.

"I guess you have important sciencey stuff to be doing, huh?" Charlie asked, folding the napkin with the address carefully and putting it in his pocket. 

"Unfortunately I do." Doc said, getting to his feet. 

"Is your bar far from here?" Doc asked, looking doubtfully out the window at the flurrying snow.

"Only, like seven blocks."

He frowned. "That's a long way without a proper jacket. I could...give you a ride, if you like." 

"That's so nice, man, are you sure?"

"It's no problem." He said, slipping his laptop into his messenger bag. 

*--*--*

"Sorry it's in such a state. It doesn't get much use because most places I need to go are already on campus." Doc said even though Charlie thought his car was pretty nice. Warm, too. He cranked up the heater and drew a little stick figure in the fog on the window before pulling his sleeves over his cold fingers.

After a moment Doc cleared his throat. "You know, there are more options out there than you'd think if you're interested in strengthening your reading skills."

Charlie looked over at him, unsure. "Like what?"

"Well most universities offer classes, for one thing. Mine does. There are also tutors for hire, even some publically available ones at local libraries who teach small groups. You'd be surprised by how many adults are in the same boat as you. Millions, even."

"Millions?"

"Mhm."

Charlie thought about it, chewing his lower lip. "I mean...I don't know if I can really afford tutors or classes or anything like that. Plus, like, most of the time it's not even a big deal…"

Doc shrugged, seeming more tense than he was letting on. "Obviously it's up to you at the end of the day, and I'd wager I can find some option for you that fits your budget, but I'm not trying to push you to do it if you're not interested. I do know, though, that there are measurable benefits beyond what you might think. It can help with confidence, mental health, communication with others, quality of life, brain flexibility, etcetera."

"Uh, I'm not sure if brains can be flexible, dude."

"That just means that it can be easier to pick up new tasks, understand things, make connections, that sort of thing." 

"Wow, you've really got the whole elevator pitch down, huh?"

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Yes, well, I think the state of education here is abysmal. I hate to see people who are actually quite bright failed by a system that doesn't understand different types of learning."

"Now you're just using flattery." Charlie teased. 

Doc gave a surprised bark of laughter. "I assure you, Charlie, I'm not just flattering you." 

"Well…" Charlie said, thrown off balance by his sudden earnestness. "You're a professor, right? You teach people…"

"Oh, well I'm not sure _I'd_ be the right---"

"Oh, no, it's okay." Charlie cut him off. "You secretly think I'm a lost cause, or whatever…"

Doc's head snapped to the right, eyes intense. "Quite the opposite, Charlie, I _just_ said how bright I think you are." 

"Oh, okay, so you just don't think _you_ can do it. Because it'd be too hard…"

"Enough with the emotional manipulating." He said, turning back to look at the road only when he absolutely had to, his jaw tight. 

"Is it working?" Charlie asked. 

A pause. "...You really want _me_ to tutor you?"

"Yeah, man, you clearly know your shit _plus_ you aren't as judgemental as most people---I could even pay you in cleaning, or something, or you could do more freaky experiments on me."

He huffed a laugh. "I wouldn't label any of my experiments as 'freaky'...but alright, I'll tutor you. You don't need to do anything for me, though." 

"For real?"

"For real." He snuck a look at Charlie and smiled tentatively as they pulled up outside of Paddy's.

"Awesome, dude!" He held his hand out for a fist pump that Doc awkwardly took part in. "So, uh, when are you free?" Charlie drummed his hands on his legs excitedly. 

"Well I'm free most Saturdays, really…" 

"Alright, sick, it depends what we've got going on but I'll call you before Saturday!" 

"Alright." Doc said, face stretching in a smile despite himself. Charlie's enthusiasm really was infectious. Charlie broke the spell after a silent, cheek-hurting moment. "Um, thanks for the danish and everything, dude! I'll call you!"

"Bye, Charlie." Doc said, snow swirling into the car when he opened the door. He watching him bound across the snowy pavement and into Paddy's, giving a final wave before the faded green door shut behind him. 

He sat in his car for a moment, letting the snow-muffled sounds of distant traffic calm him. He didn't know what it was about Charlie that made him feel so...off-kilter. It wasn't an entirely unwelcome feeling, either. Charlie was surprisingly easy to talk to for all of his oddities, refreshingly different from everyone he spoke to on a regular basis. He couldn't deny that he liked being around him.

"Okay." He said softly to himself, starting the car. He took the long way to work, making a mental list of books with enough pictures to use. He'd snag one of the mini whiteboards from one of the gen-ed rooms, too, maybe ask around and see who taught the introductory English language class…

He smiled to himself. Saturday. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this I have a few more one shots about these two in the works! <3
> 
> twitter:onlybieeding


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